


lips like sugar

by catbee



Category: Duran Duran
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 17:26:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16163501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catbee/pseuds/catbee
Summary: Of all the things he could think of - the music, the tours, the fame, the parties, the girls - Nick’s warm, subtle smile and quick kiss hello were what struck him the most, what he found himself thinking of on the nights that he felt particularly lonely and pitifully self-deprecating.





	lips like sugar

   Nick and John had kissed innumerable times. It was something Nick had started doing in his teen years: just a quick peck, no longer than a second, usually in greeting and occasionally in parting. The first time it happened, John had panicked, shoved Nick away and asserted, loudly, his sexual preference. When Nick had outright laughed at his outrage, assured him that it was simply a platonic hello, John had calmed down and accepted it as one of his many pretensions.  
  
   “They do it in eastern Europe, Nigel,” he’d said, full of faux self-confidence and worldliness at fourteen, as though he’d ever been anywhere but Birmingham.

* * *

  
    Over time, it became something that John had, unexpectly, come to love, even when they both realized that it wasn’t quite so common a practice as they thought. It belied a certain level of intimacy and comfort between them, and it was a big “fuck you” to the societal norms of Conservative England, which John was thrilled with on a childish level. Of course, they would never do it if they were to meet in public - the press would have been a disaster - and this fact undercut the subversiveness that John so relished, but he had to admit that he enjoyed the secrecy of this little thing between them.

* * *

  
   Years passed and things changed. After leaving the band, fully expecting that he’d never see Simon, Warren, or even Nick again, he felt ridiculous for realizing that those brief kisses were something he missed. Of all the things he could think of - the music, the tours, the fame, the parties, the girls - Nick’s warm, subtle smile and quick kiss hello were what struck him the most, what he found himself thinking of on the nights that he felt particularly lonely and pitifully self-deprecating.

* * *

  
   Three years after his departure, he found himself standing at a terminal in LAX, waiting for Nick to step off of his plane. Seeing Simon had already been anxiety-inducing enough for him, but the idea of seeing Nick again had him near panicking. He could just leave, he thought, just go back home and pretend he’d never agreed to a reunion, ignore all of his phone calls and live a hermetic life. But running away was what he’d always done. That had been the answer to everything before he’d sobered up. He couldn’t keep doing that anymore. For God’s sake, Nick was his oldest friend. If he couldn’t face him, what did that say about John?  
  
   He finally spotted him, carrying more bags than remotely necessary, hair shorter and yet somewhat shaggier than John remembered. He looked older. Of course, John supposed he probably did too. Nick’s expression was inscrutable, and John immediately felt dread tying his stomach into knots. Driving up to the airport, he’d had concerns that he was going to get punched out, and when Nick stood in front of him, dropped his bags, and stared John in the face, he went from concerned to certain.  
  
   “Hi, Nicky,” he said, nervousness in his voice that he tried to distract from with a grin. “Long time no see.”  
  
   Nick’s expression softened, sadness in his eyes, and for a moment John thought to hug him until Nick grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and jerked him forward and down to his level. This was it, John thought, this was when he was going to get decked by his dearest friend in the middle of an airport.  
  
   “You absolute idiot,” Nick sighed, and crushed their lips together, his arms coming up to encircle John’s waist. John started, surprised. This was not like the quick, barely there greeting kisses of the past. This was different, meaningful, and John understood. It was something he should have understood a long time ago, but he suspected that it was the distance that allowed him to see the whole picture. Coming to his senses, he returned Nick’s embrace and kissed him back, wishing that it could convey everything he didn’t know how to say, that his stodgy British upbringing wouldn’t let him. ‘I missed you. I love you. I’m sorry.’ They parted, and Nick lifted his bags from the floor.  
  
   “Let’s go to your place, shall we? I think we have a lot to talk about,” he said, his expression once again unreadable.  
  
   “Hang on,” John blurted, whiplashed. “Was that our first kiss?” He wasn’t sure, but he thought he could see the faintest of smiles at the corners of Nick’s lips.  
  
   “'First' implies more to come, I think. That’s really up to you, isn’t it, Johnny?”     
  
   John was at a loss for words, his slack-jawed expression no doubt unflattering, so he simply took one of Nick’s bags to carry and began the trek back to his car with Nick following alongside him. Despite the hammering of his heart against his rib cage and his racing mind, John felt a sense of stability for the first time in three long years. They reached the car without either of them having spoken, and John popped the trunk to start loading Nick's luggage.  
  
   “Tea would be lovely.”  
  
   “What?”  
  
   “Once we get round to yours. Tea would be lovely.”  
  
   John broke then, laughing so hard he had to hold on to the car to right himself. Wasn’t that like them? No contact for years after what was, essentially, a breakup, then a sudden and monumental shift in dynamic, and now they were going to have _tea_. Typical. Once he had stopped, he took in Nick’s puzzled expression and grinned - this time a genuine, confident grin.  
  
   “Yeah. That’d be nice.”  
  
   As they got into the car and drove away from the airport, John was still smiling. He didn’t know if this reunion would happen, didn’t know what would happen at all from that point forward, but he knew that he wanted to see it through and not run away, to keep kissing Nick until they made up for lost time, and to never let anything go unsaid between them again.

**Author's Note:**

> title from echo and the bunnymen's "lips like sugar" (kind of obviously lmao)
> 
> okay so the cat's out of the bag, i enjoy writing rpf about a forty year old britpop band. i don't usually write fluff, and i don't usually write short things, so this one was a little out of my comfort zone, but it was something my wife requested. tbh i'm kind of mortified that this is the first thing i'm posting on ao3?? but i mean, it's also the first thing i've _finished_ in, uhhhhh... forever, so here you go.
> 
> i had previously boosted my polygon/gill&gilbert blog here, but tumblr's new policy deemed it unfit for human eyes, so instead i'll just advertise my twitter (@parkourcannibal) where i post the occasional funny thing, and my instagram (@poptrash_) where i post a lot of duran duran/80's shitposts and spam. 👍


End file.
